


Five Stolen Firsts and the One They Took Back

by WellofHavoc



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Crime Fighting, Drowning, First Kiss, First Time, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Trans Matt Murdock, kilgrave is also only in the first chapter, sex only in the last chapter, there is no noncon i promise, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29745213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellofHavoc/pseuds/WellofHavoc
Summary: "First Times" in a relationship are big markers for any couple, and the rate at which one would meet those first times is entirely individual and personal. There's never meant to be any rush, and a good relationship will find you moving at your own pace.That is, unless you two are both super heroes the universe seems hellbent on getting you two together as fast as possible.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 21
Kudos: 46





	1. First "I Love You"

Matt didn’t know when they’d gotten separated in the search for Kilgrave, but he knew it wasn’t good. Jessica was still working on getting the rest of their “team” the vaccine she and Trish were trying to reproduce from before he’d miraculously risen from the dead. They were even lucky that he hadn’t been brought back with the maximum level of influence he’d died with.

That luck seemed to run out when Matt found himself dodging the butt of a familiar weapon, dropping to the ground in a low crouch before swinging his leg back. Rather than his target toppling over, they steeled themselves and swept him onto his back with the barrel of that same rifle that had originally been meant for his head.

On his back, trying to get a grasp on the figure standing over him, Matt immediately understood what had happened.

“Frank,” he said, “he got to you?”

“Yep,” he said, his leg moving back in a sluggish kick that Matt easily dodged.

“That was telegraphed a little too much,” he said. “Is that you fighting his control?”

“Control nothing. He said to go after you, not to kill you, and to bring you back. He didn’t say anything about overexerting myself.” He moved his rifle onto his shoulder and moved to punch Matt at the same time. “I actually consider ‘don’t kill’ to be quite the opposite.”

Again, he dodged the slow attack. “You figure we can just go for loopholes?”

“If you don’t think he’ll leave you with any,” he stopped to try a series of half-hearted jabs, talking as he and Matt exchanged blows, “you better not let me catch you.”

Matt let himself laugh as he stepped to the side.

“You can’t tell me where he is?”

“Nope, but it sure would be bad for him if I happened to knock you in the direction he was holding himself up in.”

Another laugh bubbled out of his chest as he rolled over Frank and allowed himself to stand squarely behind him. “Yeah, that would suck, huh?”

As if taking that as a cue, Frank spun around and knocked him to the side with a hit to the head. Matt recovered quickly, springing back in time to avoid the blows that followed as he continued in the direction Frank had not-so-subtly directed him.

He dove under another lunge, this time slipping down the half wall that gave way to the parking lot behind the rows of some studio warehouses. They weren’t abandoned per say, as they were in a fairly decent condition, though it was obvious they hadn’t seen renters in some time.

His feet slipped around one another as he backed away from Frank in a pattern of rhythmic motions. Bobbing and weaving through the punches, Matt focused on the other man’s breathing and the creak of his leather sleeves twisting with each motion. So focused on the lazy dodge, he didn’t notice that they were nearing a loading zone until his foot caught the edge of a ramp. It was only about an inch off the ground, but the combination of the incline and it catching him off guard was enough to send him stumbling back.

His arm shot down to grab for a railing that wasn’t there and struggled to so much as shake the ringing from his ears as Frank wordlessly heaved him up by the front of his suit only to smack him back against the ground.

When he woke up, it was to a delighted, airy chuckle bouncing off of the walls of what he assumed was one of the studio interiors. The absence of the heat or fluorescent hum of any bulbs that may have been on left Matt to believe that he was sitting in darkness, body propped up against a wooden pole the width of his head that ran from the floor to the ceiling. It was only when he moved forward that he understood he was also tied to it, his arms behind his back.

“Good thing you _finally_ figured out how to tie a knot.”

Kilgrave’s germy little voice grated every nerve in Matt’s body as he slipped down from something. It was probably a table or a desk of some kind. Only a few feet away from where he was tied up on the floor, Matt could hear the villains footsteps splash against Frank’s familiar form. His kevlar vest absorbed a majority of the echo, though it did nothing to disguise the quick pace of his heartbeat as they both realized that soon Kilgrave would have two of the most powerful men in Hell’s Kitchen at his disposal.

“Before we begin,” he said, “I’d like to say that I’m really shocked that you two came here together, this evening. No, really. I mean, it’s not as though I’d ever have considered myself to be good at reading people. Nor is it that I know you two well, but Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and the Punisher- your names clashed a lot back in the day, didn’t they?”

Frank and Matt remained silent.

“Speak, pet.”

“Speaking,” Frank growled out, a humiliated heat running through him at having responded to the nickname.

“Ugh, _stop it._ Don’t be cute, I expect you to do as I say, damn it. This is my thing. You don’t see me putting my finger in the barrel of your guns and keeping you from shooting.” His posture shifted as he turned to Matt. “No, no, that’s his job.” He sighed and rounded the room to stand between them, hands on his hips. “I can see that you’re going to be particularly feisty so long as you think you have some semblance of control over the situation. Oh dear, now how _do_ I go about taking that away outside of my usual methods?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

 _“Language,_ Mr. Punisher, _language.”_ He turned to Matt. “Tell me, is he always like this?”

Matt shrugged, offering a small smile. “He’s just blunt and honest.”

“Sounds like an interesting way of saying he’s an asshole,” Kilgrave chimed, his shoes clicking in a semi circle around the Punisher.

Matt tilted his head at the skip in his heartbeat.

“Are you… do you think you can get us to fight?”

“Well it’d be easier to get you two to stop fighting to being ‘better’ than what I tell you to be if you weren’t fighting for one another.” He sighed. “I can work with a quiet dislike of one another, but something about loyalty- ugh, it makes mums cry when I take them away from their children almost no matter how much I tell them to stop. It gets lovers and even dog owners to cut their own hands off rather than kill when I ask them to. It’s a real _cunt_ of a work around, if I’m being honest. Speaking of honesty,” he turned to Frank, “just how honest are you? No secrets from our devil here, I hope. And if you have any, you will tell me, now.”

Frank’s head fell, his jaw grinding as he tried to resist the pull of Kilgrave’s voice.

Before he could think of a loophole, the words, “I have secrets” fell from his lips.

The villain hummed in intrigue, his hands buzzing the air as he twiddled his fingers and tented them together. 

“Do these secrets affect our good Devil? Yes or no answer.”

“Yes.”

The next noise out of Kilgrave’s voice radiated pure glee.

“Haha-! And what exactly is it you want to say to him, my knight in painted kevlar?”

Frank’s body curled like he was going to vomit. “That I- I have these feelings.”

“Spit it out, man!” Kilgrave cried, shooting a foot back when Frank obstinately spat at the ground. “You _know_ what I meant, and we don’t have all night. At least, _he_ certainly doesn’t. Tell him how you really feel about your little partnership.”

Almost through his teeth, Frank ground out the words, “I want more.”

“You want more- more what? More killing, more freedom, more power-? Elaborate, will you!? Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

“I want more of him. I- I’m sick of spending nights alone and I’m sick of only getting called in to clean up the messes in his stupid city, but I do it anyway becaue it’s the only time I get to be here without having to explain myself. By that I mean, if I came back to just be here I think he’d rather just run me out. I want to be here, though, because I’m lonely and I hate getting called in to clean up-.”

“Elaborate doesn’t mean talk in circles- get to the _heart.”_

“I love him.” The words shattered into the air, splintering only to be flung back into Frank’s face before they could truly wash over Matt who remained tied up at their feet.

From there, he could sense the warmth that rose from Frank’s shoulders to the top of his cheeks. It raked over him with the humiliation and brought his heart to beat even faster.

“Frank, no, it’s okay,” Matt said.

“Is it?” Kilgrave asked, his voice picking up as he sensed a new weakness. His hands fell over Matt’s shoulders, and he leaned by his ear. “I always heard that the devil can’t lie to you. It’s one of those strange things I remember from my brief, forced period with religion as a child. Well, before I told mother to let the air out of the tires the night before we were set to go. Anyway, let’s see if it’s true, shall we? Tell the truth.”

“It’s okay,” Matt repeated. “I mean, I don’t know if I’d call it love, but I am more than willing to give this a shot if we live past tonight.”

Kilgrave sagged with disappointment, his hands slipping down Matt’s biceps as he slunk back into a standing position.

“I can’t even get a broken-hearted Punisher to commit a murder suicide?” he asked with a sigh. “Well now I don’t even want the two of you to kill each other. Nothing poetic, there- and tragic lovers battling it out would just be a shameful parody of a well-trodden trope after that _awkward_ confession. Ugh, rubbish, all of it.” Snapping his fingers at Frank, he spun around and gestured to Matt’s ropes. “Untie him, get out of here, both of you. Don’t follow me, and walk into some traffic until you get hit.” He took a few steps toward the building’s exit while Frank hurried to tear his bowie knife through the ropes. At the door, he paused to ask, “Now why do I feel as though I’ve forgotten something?”

He had, as Matt had only been told not to follow. He’d never been given Frank’s order not to attack. Thus two thuds echoed through the abandoned studio- the first being his club meeting the back of Kilgrave’s head, and the second being his body hitting the wall before it slid down to the ground.

With him unconscious, Matt sighed and tried to take a step towards the body to retrieve his club only to be pulled in the opposite direction toward the other door.

“I- I can’t follow him, can I?”

“No, we can’t,” Frank said. “I guess Jones wasn’t lying. That drug is the only thing that can completely shut down his effects.”

“So what do we do?”

“We find the quietest street we can and punch each other in the arms- you know, ‘get hit.’ Then we can call Jones and let her know her guy is unconscious and ripe for pick up. Or you know, she can kill him again. Whatever works for her.”

“He doesn’t have to die,” Matt said. “I know he can’t be tried, exactly, but we could turn him over to SHIELD.”

“You hate working with those guys.”

“I do,” he said, leaving out the implication that he’d still put up with them if it meant Jessica could feel secure with that heinous man properly detained if not dead. “By the way, Frank-”

“Don’t, Red, seriously.”

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to get something to eat after this. I know a great restaurant around here.”

“You wanna go out to eat after this? You got a change of clothes?”

“The owner kind of already knows who I am. It’s a bit of a long story. He has a private room for specifically supers, though, so I could tell you there. That is assuming you’ll take me up on the offer.”

“And what exactly is this offer, Red? You asking me out on a date?”

“Hey, we made it out of tonight alive, and I’m a man of my word. I usually like to be the one to make the first move, but you’re the one who said you were in love with me-”

“Hey, I didn’t mean ‘love!’ Love’s a strong word. He said get to the heart and it popped out, alright? I just meant you know, that you’re the first person I really looked at like that in a while. I wouldn’t mind having a shot, is all.

“So you’re going to accept my invitation, then?”

He got a genuine laugh out of Frank at that.

“Sure. Fine, I’ll let you take me on a date.”


	2. First Kiss

The fight on the boat wasn’t supposed to last too long. It was just stopping a freighter of arms meant to ship out from a dock on the southside of Hell’s Kitchen before it got the chance to actually leave. Matt probably hadn’t even thought to call Frank for help until the last minute, as it really didn’t seem that big of a deal when he finally had.

Maybe Frank could ask him later, as they were currently dealing with the fact that their easy, little mission had evolved into a huge, fucking problem. 

Not only were they not able to stop the boat before they left, resulting in them getting trapped on board, but there was an issue with the cargo. They weren’t just arms- guns and rifles meant for the hands of petty car jackers and gang members- they were  _ bombs.  _ They weren’t even the kind that Frank could find slapped together out of rocks and plastic, but heavy duty equipment probably stolen from some high tech research lab that was going to have to tell some higher up at the CIA that they’d just lost twenty tons of bombs in the Atlantic.

And that is to say it was far from the coast by the time he shoved the last member of the crew’s unconscious form into a lifeboat and barked at the other two to paddle with their hands as fast as they could. They’d make it out of the blast radius if they were lucky, but definitely not to shore before a helicopter came to see who was responsible for the carnage.

Matt had been busy setting one of the bombs to detonate after they’d both agreed they couldn’t just let all of this sit out here, and getting the only boat with a motor ready for them to leave as well.

“And you’re sure the blast won’t affect any of the surrounding land?”

“Nah,” Frank said, almost dismissively as they lowered their escape boat into the water. “I don’t care how fancy the chemicals are, as long as they’re not nuclear. You said they smelled kind of like TNT?”

“Yeah, from what I remember. Nitric acid has that- that  _ overbearing  _ smell, like park fertilizer.”

Frank scoffed, shaking his head once they were in the water. “I’ll take your word on that, Red, but yeah, Nitric stuff won’t make a boom that’ll reach the shore. Can’t guarantee they won’t hear it though. Might put em on high alert.”

Matt nodded. “Let’s head a bit south, then. Maybe we should just dock in Jersey.”

Frank repressed the chill that ran up his spine, said “Sounds like a plan,” and turned on the motor.

“Frank Castle, are you perpetuating the stereotype of New Yorkers hating New Jersey?”

“Nothing to perpetuate- no stereotype,” he barked. “It’s just a fact that one is better than the other and it’s not the- the fancy folk that think we’re too good for their beaches.”

Matt laughed as he leaned against the back of the boat, his hand covering his mouth.

Smiling from where he was controlling the rotor, Frank leaned across the boat.

“What’s wrong, Red? You look a little nervous. Got something to tell me about some old Jersey blood?”

“No,  _ no,”  _ he waved his hand, playing into the act as he schooled what Frank could see of his face into a look of disgust. “Never associate me with  _ Jersey Trash.” _

“Yeah right. Let me guess, it’s the fact that you can’t drive, either? Makes you want to root for the underdog?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I manage pretty well without a windshield and no other drivers on the road.”

“Ah, so that’s not it. You’re a Devils fan, then?”

Matt laughed even harder, and for a moment it was easy to forget that they were fleeing a bomb-ridden boat in the middle of the ocean to hide from police who would surely be looking for the culprits. So easy that Frank could only think that he was having a good time, even with said boat coming into view behind Matt’s head as they turned back around the boat to aim for the cursed state.

Well, it was easier when the explosion went off when they were just on the edge of the aftershock radius, their boat being kicked up by the ensuing wave that pushed and pulled them under in a dreaded sweep of undertow.

Cold Atlantic swallowed them, and the red of Matt’s suit turned black under the water, Frank desperately flailing for his hand if only to make sure that they weren’t separated in the hell of the sea. Once he had a hold, he could feel Matt panic and begin to pull them both in a direction he may have thought was the surface. Maybe he was deaf from the blast and struggling to struggle or maybe something about how the water was swirling or some pocket of air in an underground was tricking him into thinking the surface was in one other direction.

Still, Frank had to insistently pull him through the water, trying to go limp in the waves against his own instincts to fight back. They were kicking up the current, bubbles that would otherwise float straight up flying around with each flail of Matt’s arms.

When Matt finally went limp, Frank found his own lungs screaming from their need for oxygen. He was able to sooth them by letting that which was trapped in his lungs out in one, slow push of air. He followed the bubbles up to the surface in the now almost-calm water. He got them both to the top and found their overturned boat.

It was only after he broke the surface that he realized Matt hadn’t resigned himself to follow Frank-  _ he wasn’t moving. _

Unconscious and presumably not breathing, Frank heaved the unconscious man on the motor boat, his hand fumbling with the water-logged motor to switch it off before he pulled Matt’s head toward his. Some would say that, in an ideal situation, he’d be sitting on top of a flat surface with the other man positioned underneath him so that he could perform delicate, movie-perfect CPR. Frank would say an ideal situation would be his maybe-boyfriend  _ not  _ drowning in the middle of the Atlantic, but here we are.

First he used the boat’s slope to get Matt onto his side, tilting his chin back and surprising himself. He pressed his ear to Matt’s chest, pleased to hear a heartbeat but worried by the lack of any rise or fall in his chest.

He cursed and damn near broke Matt’s stupid helmet ripping it off of his head and absently scooting it down the underside of the boat. It caught, but he didn’t notice nor care. Matt could wear a bicycle helmet and still be a Hell of a vigilante, but he couldn’t exactly do that if he was  _ dead. _

So he rested the devil back on his back and shifted along the boat’s edge to tilt Matt’s chin back. There he clamped his mouth around Matt’s and held his nose closed, coaxing a breath into his lungs. Then he pulled back and waited, eyes on Matt’s chest.

Again, he breathed for him.

And again.

The fourth time, Matt flinched and his legs slipped from their precarious perch of wet wood into the water as he struggled to sit up.

Frank helped him up, holding him against the boat’s frame as he allowed Matt to fall waist deep into the water. His red-gloved hands held desperately onto Frank’s shoulders as he expelled the water in his lungs with a violent shake that tore through him only to peter off into weaker, infrequent shivers.

“Where-” Matt gasped and coughed up another mouthful of water, “oh shit,  _ Frank-” _

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Red,” he said, rubbing a hand up his back. “Hey, come on, I need you to stop moving for a minute, I’m gonna get some air under this thing. We have to get out of the water before we get hypothermia, okay?”

Matt’s face read shock, as if he’d forgotten they were in the ocean. Frank couldn’t blame him if he had, even with the water rocking them around. He was just happy he could hear.

“What do you need air under?” Matt asked.

“The boat. Can you tread water for just a minute? I’ll have us ready to go after that.”

Matt nodded, but said, “I don’t know.”

“Okay, then just lay back for me,” he held Matt’s head gently, and waited to make sure he could really trust Matt to stay like this so soon after being brought back from his drowned dream.

He looked fine once was laid out, though. He looked terrified as he was left without Frank’s hands to momentarily ride the waves, but he was floating.

“I’ll just be a sec,” Frank said, barely remembering to grab Matt’s mask, which he slid into his hand with a delicate press.

Then he disappeared under the water. He felt for the boat, getting directly under it before kicking up with his legs and straightening out his arms at the peak of his jump. Still the boat remained upside down.

He did it again, this time dropping back down into the water as the vessel slammed upright in the water.

Matt’s breathing picked up as Frank neared him, a twitch in his neck as he resisted the urge to reflexively turn his ear toward the noise of someone paddling toward him.

“I’m right here, Red,” Frank said before helping him into a standing position once more. Then his hand trailed down Matt’s thigh, pulling up one of his billy clubs and detaching the barbed end to pull out a bit of the line. “Hold onto me, if you want, but I’m gonna need my arms.”

Matt looked like he wanted to decline the offer, but he wasn’t stupid and he also looked exhausted. With Matt's arms around his waist, Frank turned back to the bow of the ship and began tying a length of the club’s cord there. He pulled Matt’s hands from his torso to lay them on the cord and swam around the ship.

“I know you can’t see that well right now- or sense, or whatever- but I need you to hold onto the actual boat and use the cord like a rung on a ladder to heave yourself up.”

“Got it,” Matt said, though his arms shook with the effort of pulling himself over the lip of the boat. 

The rope made things much easier, though, as did Frank’s weight keeping the other side steady. Matt weighed down the other side in a similar fashion when Frank took his turn to pile in, both of them splayed out, drenched against the soaked wood with their shallow breaths mixing in the sea air.

The silence broke when Matt asked, “Did you give me mouth to mouth?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Yeah yeah, of course. Thanks,” Matt said as almost an afterthought before grasping the edge of the boat and hanging his head over the water.

“You gonna puke?” Frank asked. “That’s normal, you know, after almost drowning.”

“I’m not I just-” Matt lurched, his breath catching as he hunched over the rail in revulsion.

Frank sniggered and turned on the motor, again directing them to shore. “Don’t die on me, now.”

Still over the side of the boat, Matt yelled, “No, not in  _ Jersey  _ waters.”

Against his best effort to maintain a straight face, Frank couldn’t help the wheezing laugh that escaped him as they sought a place to dock. Matt could get home, get some sleep, and maybe get a mint or something so that they could try putting their lips together on better terms.


	3. First Night Together

The sirens painted an eerie image of the city as they bounced off of the near empty allies, Matt trying to block them out to the best of his ability as he slipped from corner to corner with Frank not too far behind.

“This isn’t good,” Frank said, “van’s the other way, you know.”

“Not anymore.” When he felt Frank’s head whip around to glare at him, he turned around to explain, “I just heard the scanner say they found it.”

“How could they know it’s mine!? I changed the plates!”

“Yeah, because your black van isn’t suspicious or recognizable at this point.” His sharp grin did nothing to soften his even sharper tongue as he fell into a crouch and placed his hand to the ground. “The church is only a bit farther, though. We can hide out there.”

“You’re sure a church will let us in?” Frank asked. “I think Mother Theresa herself would call saving our souls a tall order.”

“Churches are all about salvation for the wicked, Frank. Still, you should probably leave the talking and the Catholic jokes to me,” Matt said as he continued to lead Frank over an iron fence, the bars rattling as they leapt from the top into the barren garden below.

A few lots later, Frank was sticking his neck out from behind the church building, trying to judge what point the street was quietest so that they could make a run for the entrance. He fell back when Matt silently patted him on the shoulder, turning around to see the devil pointing to a cellar door.

He wrinkled his nose at the sight of the padlock on the door, only to see Matt quietly pull it free. It was just for show. The implication that a bluff of a lock could deter anyone from breaking into a church shouldn’t have been so surprising, but it still made Frank laugh.

They slipped into the basement, the loudest noise made between them being when Matt refastened the door in place.

“Wait here,” he said, directing Frank to the cot against the wall. “I have to go let someone know we’re going to be staying the night.”

Frank let out a noncommittal noise before he fell back against the bed, iron springs creaking under his weight. The room was dark, which sounded stupid to even think to himself about a basement. He turned around, squinting through the faint moonlight that crept through the small, slatted windows that managed to stick over the earth outside.

Through that light, he found the reflective shine of what was either the body of a lamp or a vase. Luckily, it was the former. Even luckier, it had a bulb in it, and it was plugged in.

It flicked on and he walked with it like it was a torch as he examined the room, its bottle neck sitting comfortably in his fist.

He almost dropped the damn thing when he heard a squeak behind him, his legs caught in the cord when he spun around to face the source of the noise.

He must have been the definition of horror, his face poorly lit from the underside by the lamp light and his white skull illuminated along with the dried blood that streaked down its face.

Still the nun in the doorway looked relatively calm once she realized who he was.

“Matthew,” she called behind her, “you didn’t tell me you were bringing another vigilante down here.”

“He’s a friend, Maggie,” Matt said, reappearing behind her with a towel around his neck that he ran over his hair with hurried hands. “A friend I’d like you to not scare off.”

“Scare him off,” Maggie laughed as she moved further into the room, carrying a basket in her hands Frank hadn’t noticed until she set it down on the crate at the foot of the bed. “There are some blankets in there. No extra beds, and no place for you in those get ups around here, I’m afraid.”

“We’ll make do,” Frank said. “Thank you, ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh wow,” she put her hands on her hips, turning to Matt with an expression of faux shock. “How is it the serial killer has more manners than you?”

“Probably has to do with how I was raised,” he said, which earned him a smack on the shoulder as she left the room. “Good night, Sister.”

“Good night, Daredevil,” she called behind her.

Only when she was gone did Frank replace the lamp on the case behind him and lean over to Matt.

“Mind if I ask how you know a nun?”

“She raised me,” Matt said, stretching his arms over his head before sinking down on the edge of the cot and pulling off his boots.

“Oh, that explains a lot.”

“She’s also my biological mother.”

“And you keep making things difficult for me. You love it, don’t you?”

Matt laughed and began to undo the clasps of his body armor. As if it were only an afterthought, he stood up and began to sort through the basket by the foot of the bed.

“There’s no shower,” he said, “but she gave us some of the donated clothes. Just for tonight, by the way. Not saying you  _ want  _ to steal from homeless people, just a reminder.”

“Sounds good,” Frank said, “I’ll probably just ditch the vest though.”

Matt didn’t respond to that as he picked up the chosen coat and sweatpants to disappear with him into the bathroom. By the time he emerged, Frank had already dumped his boots alongside Matt’s and laid out one of the thicker, wool blankets on the floor.

“You don’t have to sleep down there, you know.”

“Bed’s not really big enough for both of us,” he said, pulling a fitted sheet over himself. It was better than using a coat as a blanket, even if the elastic did rub at his neck. “Not the first time I’ve slept on the floor.”

“I figured it wasn’t,” Matt said, pacing in a semi circle around him. Tilting his head, he said, “You didn’t turn out the light?”

Frank pulled himself to an elbow, realizing he’d subconsciously left it on for Matt without realizing. “Shit, I forgot, let me get-”

“I’ll get it,” Matt said, moving around the room in a way that was more than comfortable. 

He knew this space like the back of his hand. This was almost like another home for the devil, and Frank was suddenly hit with the realization that his being here was something sacred.

After the lamp was shut off and he could hear Matt fidgeting with the bedsheets, Frank expected to fall into slumber. Instead, he was brought back to the waking world when the fitted sheet was pulled away and a pillow dropped onto his face.

“What are you doing?” he spat, his voice dropped to a whisper for a subconscious reason he couldn’t totally understand.

“We’re going to bed,” Matt said. “It’s the middle of the night, and you’re right, the bed’s not big enough.”

“So you’re going to martyr yourself by taking the floor with me?”

Matt scoffed and fell to his knees on the blanket that covered the floor. “The cot’s not that good anyway, and what did I tell you about leaving the catholic jokes to me?”

Letting out a string of half-hearted curses, Frank put the cushion under his head, making sure to sit on the farthest edge of it only for Matt to slide right against him, instead using the crook of his arm as a pillow.

“Good night, Frank,” He murmured, turning his face into the hollow of his collarbone.

With his chin on top of his head, Frank allowed himself to sink down into the makeshift bed, his own “Good night” barely present on his lips.


	4. First Time Seeing Each Other Naked

Since when did they become X-Men control?

If anyone had an answer, Frank was begging for them to tell him, and he didn’t beg easy. One moment they’re happy as larks in their civilian roles- just Matt and Pete having brunch of all things at the local diner- and the next, a SHIELD employee was quietly sliding into their booth and threatening with an unassuming smile across his face as he asked them to stand up and follow him.

Now they were shin-deep in snow in the Canadian outback looking for Wolverine- driven out of his mind by some kind of Hydra injection that reacted unexpectedly with the mutant’s adamantium skeleton. Apparently the injection- which SHIELD neglected to say was actually fired by a Hydra agent or not- was meant to negate his mutant abilities for just a moment and possibly sedate him. Instead, it had kicked his abilities into overdrive, leaving him to savage the snowy forests.

He hadn’t hurt anyone, yet, but it was probably better safe than sorry.

Usually, they called in another “hero” for clean ups like this- when the Hulk wilded out or some other kind of humane takedown of a powerful mutant. That hero, of course, was usually Wolverine.

This was gonna be fun.

Frank was just excited that he could actually shoot the bastard without having to worry about killing him. Then he’d gotten thrown into the snow, Matt pulling him back by the arm when they reached a snow bank.

“It’s deeper than it looks,” Matt said, pulling up one of his clubs and shooting it down into a proper cane. The four foot rod stuck through the snow from waist level, and Matt pushed further, showing that Frank could have just taken quite the spill.

Rather than thank him for the save, as he knew Matt knew the gratitude was there, he said, “They said that Hydra stuff was supposed to last a few hours. How long has he been out here?”

“A couple of days,” Matt said like it didn’t matter, and maybe it didn’t. He returned his club to its fighting shape and stalked around the deceiving, dangerous pocket of snow. “I hope Logan’s okay.”

“He probably was before they shot him,” Frank said, watching as Matt shot a line across a ravine and taking a moment to tie the cord he was handed to a tree. “Can’t help but feel bad for the guy sometimes. How many times has he tried to come up here and just get some alone time when he gets dragged back down by his ‘team?’”

“Oh, he loves them,” Matt said as he brought out the other club. He first tested the hold of the grapple on the other end of the line before using his club to ride the stretch across the gorge. While Frank was preparing to do the same with his gun rather than a club, Matt shouted, “SHIELD and the government get on his bad side, and a lot of the random heroes that ask him for help get a more _begrudging_ hand, but the X-Men aren’t like that.”

“He sure complains about them like they are,” Frank said, his boots slipping for purchase on the icy slope as he held onto his gun tighter.

Without any rush or urgency, Matt reached out to pull him onto a more stable part of the other side as he whispered, “Well, you complain about having to help _me_ on occasion, and you don’t find me annoying, do you?”

Frank smirked and adjusted his grip on either end of his gun.

“You really want an honest answer while you’re holding me over a cliff?”

A playful hum threaded from Matt’s lips. “Point taken.”

He spun Frank to the side, the gun unhitched from the line in the same moment he found his footing.

“You wanna take your club down?” Frank asked, gesturing to the line over the ravine.

“We should leave it,” Matt said as he fixed the other one to his thigh. “We can use it to get back across later.”

“Hopefully with Wolverine behind us.”

They left in silent agreement, Frank following Matt like the most reliable hunting dog through the snow, thrown off course the few times they ran over a babbling stream only to return to the trail as soon as they reached the other side.

“Logan must have been staying around here,” he said as they picked through the brush. It’s stale, and the cold could be throwing me off, but it seems older than a few days, just barely.”

“Red,” Frank pulled him by the shoulder, turned pointedly away from the direction Matt was looking. “I know you can’t see this, but how much of a read can you get on what I’m looking at?”

Matt tried, thinking he wouldn’t be able to understand much of what Frank was gesturing to in the stillness of the Canadian forest. Though, he could detect that there was something strange about the next break of trees. Rather than tall, skinny poles sticking up from the snow, he found the snow slip down almost like a bowl, carved out of the ground with dirt and snow piled up on the sides. As for the trees, Matt assumed it was a meadow oddly placed in the center of the wood. Instead, he realized trees _had_ been there. They were logs and stumps now, broken off when something big landed from overhead.

“I guess this is where they were going to take him.”

“But why land so out in the open like this?” Frank asked. “Like, if you’re just gonna land in the middle of nowhere, find any empty spot. No need to gouge out a hole in the middle of the woods like this.”

“Unless,” Matt’s head tilted towards the direction he’d initially been heading towards, “they happened to know something about this particular spot that we don’t.”

Frank followed him out of the crater, wandering through the slopes until he caught sight of a foreign shape through the trees. It was too square, too straight to be anything organically born of the woods around him, and he shot a look at Matt when the devil peered over his shoulder for no benefit but Frank’s own before they crept closer.

The cabin was small and seemingly abandoned. Its windows were boarded up from the inside, and Matt shook his head as a silent indicator that he couldn’t hear anything from the husk of a home.

“So,” Frank began, kneeling at the steps of the cabin as if to inspect them, “Logan’s in his cabin, hiding out, and Hydra manages to find his location. They come up here looking for him and land right outside his front door so that he’ll have to fight to get them off his back?”

“Sounds like it,” Matt said, giving the air another sniff. “I don’t smell any blood on the porch, but any shed in the snow is probably too old for me to find by sense alone. There was definitely a struggle over that ridge, though.”

Frank turned to where Matt nodded, not spotting the ridge in question until he stood and was able to see that what he thought was an even patch of snow was actually a white cliff that wasn’t immediately obvious even with perfect depth perception. Over the lip, he could see footsteps and broken branches, places where the snow was kicked up and packed into boot prints.

“Logan’s probably long gone, then.”

“I don’t think so,” Matt said. “If he’s feral or otherwise running on instinct, he’ll probably have to come back here eventually. Let’s try looking in the area, we should find him by nightfall.”

Frank sighed and started in the direction of the bootprints. “Alright.”

“Hey,” Matt stopped him, holding out his remaining club. “You wanna take this? Test areas before you walk on them?”

“No thanks,” Frank said. “I’ll just stick to where I can see the trees. You can take the more open area that way, past where the ship landed.”

“Good call.” Matt smiled and waved him off before disappearing down the well-worn path in the snow toward the crater.

Frank watched after him for a moment and decided to take the more obvious trail of footprints. At first, he thought maybe the Hydra soldiers hadn’t gone back to the ship, but realized that this trail was less orderly than it appeared. Obviously the fight had moved away from the cabin. He could find ammo and wayward darts peppering the bark of the trees- patterns of three holes marking some of the wood.

Running his fingers over a set of gashes, Frank smirked. He hoped Logan gave them hell.

The area was growing darker. They’d been dropped miles away in the middle of the day, but it was well into twilight now and it wasn’t as though he was accustomed to working in the dark as Matt was.

That didn’t mean he was entirely useless, however, especially not when he reached into the pack on his back to bring out the night vision goggles that didn’t see too much use in the well-lit cities of New York. 

They clicked into place and switched on, giving him a greener, brighter view of the world around him. Goosebumps dusted his flesh as he was hit by a sudden chill, though part of him couldn’t shake off the feeling that, even excluding Matt on the other end of the property, he wasn’t alone.

He took the rifle down from his back and held it in the crook of his elbow. A crack rang out above him, bringing him to swing it up along with his gaze as he scanned the trees.

A form unlike the thin branches stared down at him, its face cast dark even in the goggles’ sights with two glowing eyes boring into him.

Logan found him first.

The feral mutant was on him, thank goodness for the fact that his claws were still sheathed by the time he tackled Frank into the snow, pushing him back and around a tree so that he was splayed out on his side. Frank raised the gun, shooting Logan in the chest.

That only pissed him off, his claws on his right hand coming out to swipe at Frank who reached up to pin Logan’s arm back.

Had it been a normal knife or something he had any experience with, Frank would have rolled the caught wrist to the side to get him to drop it. Knowing that wasn’t an option, he thought fast and used the momentum of Logan’s swing to get the claws stuck deep in the nearest tree.

Knuckles to bark, Logan stayed in place and let out a fierce growl when he couldn’t immediately pull his hand away. He moved around, the wood shifting around his claws and making it clear to Frank that he didn’t have much time when he slipped away from Logan to escape. Not that he necessarily wanted to escape, raising his gun again to now aim for Logan’s head.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to penetrate the metal skeleton, even at this close of a range with his rifle’s caliber, but if he could just rattle Logan enough, he might be able to knock him out. The trigger was pulled at the same time Logan wrestled his hand free from the bark, his claws miraculously deflecting the bullet at the same time and catching Frank in the chest.

How terrible did his luck have to be?

First his brunch was ruined, and now he was taking a hit to the sternum that knocked him a step back back. He wasn’t expecting the ground to give way behind him, toppling into the snow a good feet. His vision flickered like a bad TV when his head met something hard in the snow, his goggles swinging back off of his head. It was probably a rock or a compact bit of ice. The snow that caught him soon melted into his coat and threaded through the woven mesh of his kevlar. Thank God the vest had been there to keep the bullet from puncturing him, though he knew he’d be bruised up the next day from the impact. It was like a punch right to the base of his ribs.

Logan growled again, his animalistic form jumping down into the snow where Frank had fallen to stand over him.

He snarled and leaned close, his face inches from Frank’s as he struggled to get a grip. The world was spinning and for a moment his eyes had him convinced there were _two_ Logans staring down at him rather than the one. The shapes were identical in their posture and even the state of their torn clothes- flannel dripping from his shoulders like a classic picture of a wolf man.

Frank’s eyes trailed along that line until the _shnk_ of metal sliding out of hands brought him back to reality. He raised his gun just in time to avoid Logan making a deadly swing at his head, the claws sliding down the muzzle of his gun before sawing the end off like it was made of _butter._

It got them to end a bit away from his head, though. Then his other hand raised, snapped back by a cord that seemed to appear from the shadows.

That cord pulled Logan back, stumbling into the wall of snow behind him and then being tugged roughly to the side.

“Logan-!” Matt barked, “Logan it’s _us!”_

The feral version of their friend didn’t care, tugging against his restraint before moving to cut the cord with his other claws.

Matt pulled at the same time, resulting in him slashing the flesh of his own arm. The pain produced a yowl from the mutant, and the line went slack just before Frank saw Matt give a flying kick to the side of Logan’s head. This effectively knocked Logan down, Matt standing over him for a moment before Logan grabbed him by the leg and dragged him also down to the ground.

Frank pounced on him from behind, the side of what remained of his gun under Logan’s chin. He pulled back, forcing the mutant to curl backward. He released Matt’s leg, his claws again put away as he pawed at Frank’s arms.

Just when Matt was standing back up, Logan managed to get a hold of Frank’s arms and swing him clear over his head, bowling the devil into the snow so that they both rolled in a cluster of limbs and pain into the snow.

They wrestled away from one another just in time for Frank to see Logan disappear into the now-dark forest.

“Shit,” he whispered to no one in particular as he rubbed at the back of his head.

“He’s heading toward the crater,” Matt said.

“Should we follow him?” Frank asked.

Matt first took an assessment of Frank, his hand rubbing over his arm to check for injuries. When there were none present, he opened his mouth to say “Yes,” only to be interrupted by what was to him the thundering sound of sleet beginning to dribble from the sky.

“Not now,” he said, dropping his hand. “We need to find shelter.”

“Why?”

“Sleet. I don’t think I want to work in the rain against Logan of all people, and your goggles are going to be useless in a second. Not to mention Logan isn’t really affected by the cold, but we’re unfortunately very human, and very drenched as it is.”

Frank wrinkled his nose at the idea, lip curling in a snarl before Matt swatted him on the shoulder.

“Leave the dog noises to the drugged up Wolverine,” he said, standing and dusting the snow from his knees, only packing more of it into the holes of his own woven armor in the process.

Frank just watched his legs for a moment, even as Matt walked past him, heading for the cabin it felt like they’d only just left behind. In that time, Frank didn’t move until little holes appeared in the snow around him. In the dark, it was hard to tell what was causing the snow to suddenly sink and melt in those areas, but the sleet soon became apparent as it hammered through the trees to rain down on his coat. He brought up the tall collar, bundling it around him only to remember the snow that had gotten matted between his armor and the trench coat. He shuddered, shaking it out to release a handful of the slush.

Matt laughed. Frank barked at him to shut up.

They were conscious of the quiet around them while they made it back up to the cabin. The door was unlocked, and the front room pulled apart. The sparse cabinet was turned over, as was the couch. The former left the floor littered with the three books it had previously contained, as well as a smashed up picture frame. Another hung lopsided from the wall, the glass previously inside strewn about. Claw marks not unlike those on the trees outside even raked down the walls, chipping the doorway.

Frank noticed them as the door closed without any force. Self-closing hinges- probably useful in an old hunting lodge.

“We should clean up,” Matt said.

Knowing what Matt meant, Frank set down his equipment and moved to do just that. This was Logan’s space. It had been invaded by not just themselves, but Hydra’s influence that had brought him to unleash such fury on it. Bagging and tagging him for SHIELD to help him back to his previous self was more a favor to the organization itself. Cleaning the place up, though, that was something personal from them both.

Turning the sofa and the cabinet back on their feet was a sign of respect, and each piece of glass dumped into the trash in the kitchen one of understanding.

They’d want to be treated similarly if put in his shoes.

Frank wondered, if he snapped like this, if SHIELD would bother asking anyone to bring him home, or if anyone would be capable.

He wasn’t sure about all that, but he was brought back to the presence at least by Matt’s hand on his shoulder.

“You’re shivering,” he said, pointing to Frank’s arm.

“It’s fine,” he said, not wanting to say where he was sure the jitters were really from. “I don’t even feel cold anymore.”

Matt pulled a face that wasn’t quite a frown. “You’re the army guy, Frank. You know that not feeling the cold because you’re so cold is a thing and that it’s worse, right?”

“I doubt I have frostbite,” Frank said, shoving him off. “We should probably get out of these suits, though.”

“We could hang them in the shower,” Matt said. “I don’t know about changing clothes, though.”

Frank was about to propose that they raid Logan’s closet, that the other man wouldn’t mind if it was for survival, but then he remembered he and Matt had about half a foot on the mutant, and that he’d never seen him wear anything casual other than jeans and already too-tight tees in the times they’ve met.

That meant Logan’s clothes probably wouldn’t fit them and it wouldn’t even be worth the effort to try.

“That’s okay, though,” Matt ultimately said, unclipping his helmet and smiling at Frank. “Sharing body heat’s better than clothes anyway, right?”

He didn’t wink, but Frank heard something akin to it in his tone as he followed Matt through the living room.

While Matt left to find some towels and settle his stuff on the shower rod, Frank stayed back to start a fire in the abandoned fireplace. He wanted to go upstairs and see if he could dig out some blankets, but he didn’t want to leave a bigger trail of melted water than he already had when they shucked their boots and soaked socks by the door.

Luckily, the fireplace was already stocked with a pair of logs in the hearth, and another small pile was set by the wall.

“You had a lighter on you?”

Frank opened his mouth to respond- perhaps something about how a real man knows how to do it with a rock or that he always has the basics for survival on him, even when the only forest he sees on a daily basis is the Urban Jungle of New York- but his train of thought was completely derailed when he saw Matt standing on the corner to the tiny hall that led to the bathroom.

He’d known he was going to emerge naked, but wasn’t really expecting nor prepared to look up and see him standing casually against the wall with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Something wrong?” Matt asked, his eyes staring blankly over Frank’s head.

“Nah,” Frank said, damning the part of his brain that reminded him Matt could tell when he was lying.

Taking the hint, however, Matt shrugged. A small smile played at his lips.

“You should really get those off,” Matt said.

Frank nodded without really understanding why he was doing that, his head flicking forward until he realized he’d have to walk past Matt. He did so with his head down, unwilling to make eye contact. It felt wrong in a way. Though he knew Matt was an adult- one he was definitely dating at this point- this was obviously not the time for that sort of thing. If Matt’s head wasn’t there, then his wouldn’t be either. It couldn’t be.

Then Matt caught him by the arm and whispered, “I’m gonna find some blankets. Your heart’s beating very fast. You could be running a fever.”

Then he threaded past him, and Frank had never been so sure that you could _imply_ a wink.

He reemerged from the bathroom with a towel of his own- laid out for him on the sink- and fixed it over his shoulders rather than his waist to dry the frost from his hair.

By then, Matt was sitting in front of the fire, a thick, brown blanket around his shoulders and the towel folded and neatly discarded by the feet of the couch. He’d also pulled down the throw pillows they’d only just set back into place, making a bed there that conjured memories of their time on the church floor.

“Just gonna stand there?” he asked, not turning away from the fire. He extended one arm to invite Frank next to him.

Frank took that invitation, laying out his towel before settling against Matt. They’d never been so close before, certainly not in such little clothing. There had been moments on the bus, or again that night in the church. As intimate and personal as those moments had been, there was a mutual understanding that there was something more than intimacy.

Silence settled between them once the blanket was over both of their shoulders, all of the noise just the crackle of the fire, their steady breaths, and the sound of the sleet meeting the roof.

“This place is kinda cozy,” Frank said, crossing one leg under the other as he made himself a bit more comfortable on the floor. “More than ‘kinda,’ really.”

“Did you ever stay in a cabin like this?”

“Yeah, but only in the summer when I was a kid,” he confessed. “Boy Scouts and summer camps.” When Matt hummed in intrigue, he asked, “Have you?”

“No.” Just when Frank thought he was going to leave it there, he continued, “I got in too many fights to be in clubs like that, though I’m sure Father Paul would have been desperate for me to get an outlet that wasn’t breaking noses.”

Frank laughed, his hand twitching when he brought it down between them. It brushed against Matt’s thigh, and when he didn’t feel the other pull away, he let it sit there for a moment.

A smile curled on Matt’s lips at that, his own hand finding Frank’s and threading them together before he leaned further into Frank’s form.

If you’d told Frank a few weeks ago that he’d end up sitting naked on Wolverine’s cabin floor with Daredevil cosied up to him, he couldn’t imagine he’d be shocked. He could see himself asking a few questions and for maybe a step-by-step guide on how to not screw that up. But now that he was here, in that moment, he couldn’t imagine wanting to be or thinking he would be anywhere else.

He turned his head toward Matt’s cheating his shoulders to the side so that they were facing each other. Then, slowly, he craned his neck downwards. Matt met him halfway, tilting his head back once their lips met to encourage Frank to open his mouth further. He did, his hand pulling out of Matt’s to instead wind around his shoulders as he drew himself up and onto his knees.

Matt held him, and brought him closer, his own hands holding onto Frank’s hips.

His fingers found the ridge of an old scar, running along the divet before he broke apart to ask, “Gunshot?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, pinning his forehead to Matt’s and letting his eyes slip closed as his hands folded behind his neck. He let his hands trail down, finding slit-shaped scars that littered his body. “Where’d you get these?”

Matt swallowed and tilted his head to steal another quick kiss. “Ninjas.”

Frank only hummed in response because of course they were from ninjas. He pulled back a bit, the blanket now curled around them as he all but sat in Matt’s lap. His eyes wandered down Matt’s front, the symmetrical scars along his chest and the patterns of “x”s that lined his abs. All ending at the space between his legs.

Matt, probably noticing where his eyes had ended, slowly dragged one hand up from Frank’s side to rest on the side of his face. 

Guiding Frank’s gaze back to his own face, he asked, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

Frank immediately shook his head with a small scoff. “You think that us trying to kill and imprison each other isn’t a problem, but you not having a dick is?”

Matt laughed. He pecked his lips against Frank’s and pulled him down into a proper hug with his own head over Frank’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t say I _don’t,_ have a dick,” he said, his hands moving up the expanse of Frank’s back. “I just left it in my nightstand.”

Frank chuckled. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he dragged his blunt nails down Frank’s back, not putting in enough force to do anything more than trail gooseflesh down his back. “Maybe I can show you when we get back?”

Again Frank chuckled, this one deeper as he settled down against Matt’s leg.

“I’d like that.”

They stayed pressed against one another, occasionally kissing, occasionally counting each other’s scars until they lost track only to lose themselves in just the context.

Later, after Frank remembered to set up the fire so that it would stay lit through the night, they fell asleep there. It was warm under the blanket and in each other's arms. Still, they went no further than sharing the space. They were too tired for that.

Matt pulled himself from sleep to the sound of sizzling and the smell of eggs. He sat up, stretching the sleep from his body only to curl back over and suppress a shudder at the cold air.

“Frank?” he called, “Are you cooking?”

He moved to stand, flinching at the feeling of a warm body under his hand. Now fully awake, he scrambled back toward the fireplace and tried to get a better understanding of his surroundings.

It did smell like eggs, and there was a distinct sizzle from the kitchen area, but the man on the ground next to him was definitely Frank. He'd woken up soon after, no doubt from the combination of Matt calling for him and resting a hand on his bare back.

“Hey, hornhead.” The voice was Logan’s in the kitchen doorway, his heartbeat steady and calm, as if he was unbothered by the two men in his living room. “Thanks for watching the place while I was ‘out.’”

Matt allowed himself to smile, bringing his knees up to his chest under the blanket still across his lap.

“No problem, Logan. Heard you had a run in with Hydra agents.”

“Logan?” Frank asked, still rubbing his face. 

The blanket fell from his hips as he stretched, Logan’s wolf whistle snapping him into the waking world entirely as he shot back down to the ground with the blanket around his waist.

“Oh, God,” Frank said, his hand raising to run through his hair.

“Nope, just Logan. Breakfast is almost ready whenever you two wanna get dressed and get the hell out of here.”

Matt nodded, his lips pursed to keep himself from grinning. “Sorry we couldn’t be more helpful.”

“SHIELD send you up here?”

“Yep,” Matt said.

“Do me a favor, don’t tell them about this place and I’ll let you tell them you found me and had me hogtied until I came back to myself.” He scoffed as he turned back into the kitchen. “Dunno what Fury was thinking sending you two in the first place. You guys never stood a chance.”


	5. First Time Living Together

A well prepared man didn’t have only one safe house. This was especially so for Frank Castle, who didn’t really have a house away from a safe house. That was where his second and third locations came in.

Even if one of them were to be discovered, he could rely on the other ones to be there.

That is, unless all three of them were discovered at once.

The first two had been popped almost simultaneously- one by NYPD and the other by the the Bonedog Posse, who were apparently a bit better at finding information through the remnants of the chinese network than Frank had assumed they’d be when he’d hung up his license to kill for good.

They’d gotten everything from those shelters- which were little more than rooms with gun racks and a gutted floor to store money. Still, weapons he’d gotten out of gang hands were falling back into them, cash that could have gone to a desperate meeting with an underground surgeon was lost, and both groups were unsubtly staking out both houses in hopes of his return.

So he made his way to his third shelter, this one a bit more out of his way up in Queens, which would more than do at that point. Before he even got on the bus, however, he received a text from Spiderman of all people.

It was just a picture of a familiar building the owners had probably forgotten to rent out. A line of men in jackets emblazoned with  _ “FBI” _ were storming out with plastic bags marked  _ “EVIDENCE” _ over their red tape. Under the scene was the  😔  emoji, and he had to suppress the urge to ask how Peter had found out when the police had found out, typing about half a paragraph of accusations and threats before deleting it all, sending a quick  _ “thanks,”  _ and hobbling out of the line for the bus instead.

It was the middle of the day, and Frank had little more on him than a threadbare duffel that was doing a bad job at concealing the gun barrel pressing insistently through the fabric. It sat on his vest, a pair of gauze rolls, a smaller case with maybe two thousand in twenties, and a half-empty canteen that did not contain water.

He considered hopping state lines in a paranoid need to get as far away from the cracked safe houses as possible. Before that thought took him too far, Frank forced himself to breathe. Not trusting himself to call a cab, he began to walk down the busy road with the collar of his coat pulled up both against the wind and to conceal his face. More than himself, he didn’t know if he could trust the city anymore. He had to wonder if he was just  _ that  _ wreckless with his locations or if there was someone specifically out to leak information on him.

That sounded like a stupid question when he really thought about it.

Who in Hell’s Kitchen  _ wasn’t  _ out to get the Punisher?

He immediately thought of the people he’d helped there, but even the few faces he could put to that idea always seemed to just barely conceal their fear of him. It was like frosted glass of relief that he’d been there was always fixed over a too-clear picture of fear of what he could do if he were to turn on them. Even people like Foggy, who accepted that he was making an effort to change, treated him like a dog that had already bitten its owner and was just waiting for the day he had to be put down.

His hand wound into his pocket, feet locking by the edge of the sidewalk.

He held his breath, eyes watching his own feet before scanning the area to see where he’d ended up. Rather than taking any time to decipher street signs, Frank found himself taken aback by how familiar the area was. Something was off with it though, and it took him a minute to recognize that it was the first time he was seeing the building during the middle of the day.

He examined the building from ground to the top, only realizing where he was when a hand touched his shoulder and damn near made him jump out of his skin.

“Woah, Frank, it’s me,” Matt said, backing away with a hand raised when he felt Frank jump. “Didn’t mean to startle you that much. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Frank said, trying to breathe a little easier. “You probably don’t wanna be around me right now.”

“Ooh,” Matt cooed as he stepped a bit closer to Frank’s side. “What are you going to do if I do want to be around you?”

“Not a joke this time,” he said, “and it’s not me I’m worried about. My safe houses got cracked.”

Matt perked up, rocking back on his heels with his hands coiling around his cane where it stood between his shins. “How many?”

“All three.”

A noise between a huff and a grunt left Matt’s lips as he rested back on the balls of his feet. “Where were you thinking of going?”

“Dunno,” he said. “Guess it was pretty stupid to think it could never happen. All it really takes is driving out a squatter to keep them away, and that person talking, or the guy that actually owns the place deciding that he wants to use it. I haven’t even really felt safe in one of those ‘safe houses’ since Micro’s place.”

Matt’s hands drummed and danced around the head of his cane as he continued to think over Frank’s predicament.

“Why don’t you come stay with me for the night?” he asked.

Frank picked his head up a bit too quickly, only realizing such when Matt waved his hand with a dismissive chuckle.

“I- you know, you need a place to stay for at least the night. At least you know there won’t be any chance of an officer getting past me without a warrant.”

“I just don’t know about this,” he said. “If people were able to find out I was going to some abandoned warehouses-”

“Frank, how many times have my neighbors seen you in my building?”

He paused to think about that one. Adjusting the strap on his shoulder, he tried to remember how many times his heart had leapt into his throat because the elderly couple next door was exiting at the same time in the morning. How many times had he gone up to leave by way of a roof only to dip back down after a strained, short conversation with the teenagers who smoked pot up there?

“A few of them?”

Matt nodded with a grin. “I think they’d find it weirder if you just didn’t show up at all one week. Besides, it’s only one night or two until you find another safe house.”

That was true. He wasn’t expected to stay longer than a few nights, and he’d done that plenty of times. At the same time, the implication of an indefinite period of time as opposed to picking up and leaving just before Matt went out the door for his normal office job sat differently on his shoulders.

Implication nothing, he eventually nodded and said, “Alright. Thanks, Red.”

“No problem at all, ‘Pete.’” he said, curling his arm around Frank’s. “Do you have a stash somewhere you want to go pick up?”

“No, not really,” he said as they took their first steps toward the building. Opening the door, he didn’t even turn to ask, “Hey, it’s friday, right?”

“As far as I know.”

“So why aren’t you at work?”

As if he’d been waiting for Frank to ask, Matt’s smile grew and they began climbing the steps to his apartment.

“Well, yesterday, a client came in. He was panicked and all over the place, which is normal. What isn’t normal is that he needed a lawyer to accompany him to the courthouse  _ today.” _

Frank tsked under his breath and shook his head.

“Now, I don’t entirely blame the man,” Matt cut in, though his grin was still present. “He apparently was under the assumption that he would receive charges if he went into court and spent a lot of time trying to prevent the case from getting that far in the first place. He only came to us when it was clear he wasn’t going to get anywhere. Well, Foggy and I already had another case prepared to go to court today, and we had to do it today because we’re defending the client and clients who defend on fridays tend to be more sympathetic than the prosecution.”

“Because the prosecution is the guy that’s keeping everybody from going home?”

“Exactly, but this guy was a wreck. He swore up and down that he’d never even met the guy filing against him- didn’t even know his name- so we decided to split up for the day. Foggy suggested I handle this one because in his words, I’m ‘better at bullshitting.’”

“Well he has that one right.”

_ “So, _ we get to the courthouse, walk in, and the guy who filed the order is just drenched in anxiety. As soon as we entered the room, I could just feel the confusion pouring off of him.”

“Did he think the guy he filed a restraining order against wasn’t gonna meet him in court?”

“That’s what I was thinking, until the judge asked for my client’s name, he gave it, and the guy serving him said, ‘No, he’s not.’”

Frank turned to the side as they finally reached Matt’s door, standing in front of him with an incredulous look on his face, completed by a dazed smile.

“He said  _ what?” _

Unlocking the door, Matt explained, “He served the papers to my client- who had the same name as the man he was actually trying to serve- but he put down the wrong address.”

An obnoxious bark of laughter boomed from Frank as he walked inside. Matt closed the door behind him as he ran a hand over his face.

“So you got to come home early because this guy couldn’t google the right address?”

“Well, yeah,” Matt said. “After it was declared a mistrial, of course.”

“Holy _ shit. _ The wacky stuff that happens to you kind of makes me wish I’d gone through law school. Should really become a comedian or something, just give bits about the crazy shit you put up with.”

“If only every case was a great story, and I could violate client confidentiality in a DVD special” Matt said. “Maybe it’s for the best, though. Lawyer by day, vigilante by night- what time do I have to be a comedian?”

“God had to humble you somehow.” Frank set his bag on the small table by the kitchen isle and took a seat there. “He knows you’re tearing up the comedy scene enough as it is.”

The smile on Matt’s bled into a smirk. He hung his cane on the hook by his door, unbuttoning his blazer as he made his way to his room.

“You know where the coffee maker is,” he called on his way there.

So Frank stayed the afternoon and the night with Matt, sharing space and silence on the couch, ordering take out, and folding together peacefully in bed.

He stayed the next morning alone in Matt’s house while he rushed to the firm to catch up on whatever he’d missed the day before. It was a couple of hours after he was gone that Frank realized take out was expensive, and he could probably play housewife to the busy lawyer for a day rather than sit on his thumbs wishing he had a bit more control over the space.

But it wasn’t just a space, it was Matt’s, and it left Frank in a state of limbo where he wasn’t sure whether he should be as comfortable as he was there or perhaps he was taking things a bit too far by getting groceries for an apartment he didn’t own.

It wasn’t as though he’d be there for more than a few days, after all.

Then saturday turned into sunday, from there to tuesday, and thursday he finally got tired of the washing machine fan banging every time it ran because one of the blades was bent. So he  _ had  _ to take it apart early in the morning and jump over the parts strewn about the kitchen floor to keep Matt from walking across the tools. That previous part of him that had been getting quieter over the week- the one that told him he should show some restraint in how much ownership he was exerting over a space he didn’t own at all- flared up as he gave a mix of an explanation and an apology for why he was dismantling Matt’s dishwasher without asking.

Matt kept a neutral face throughout the explanation as he stood at the threshold of his own kitchen, but a smile blooped and he was curling against the kitchen isle with a bright laugh, a promise that he wasn’t angry, and even a thank you for the thoughtfulness.

Over that week, they’d gone out in their little costumes- Matt leaving from the roof, and Frank alternating between the fire escape and the front door. The second option still felt weird, a few neighbors stopping to make small chat and get to know their new neighbor even as Frank swore up and down that “Pete” was just “Passing through.”

They never seemed to believe him, and Frank was starting to agree that it sounded like a bold-faced lie. He agreed a bit more every time he and Matt shared a chaste kiss on his way to the firm, or another tuesday later when Matt confessed he’d have to leave Hell’s Kitchen to Frank and the others that night, choosing instead to stay inside and not answering when Frank asked how long it’d been since he’d slept.

Matt had been through a revolving door of “Daredevil suit off, formal suit on” for two days at that point, and it was only then Frank realized he hadn’t seen him pause.

He knew Matt’s job at the firm wasn’t something he did in a struggle to keep the apartment going, but it still felt weird to just sit around all day. In his mind, this thing that Matt loved and kept separate of his “Daredevil” persona was something sacred, and Frank “The Punisher” Castle was not meant to intrude.

That was when the elderly Mrs. Benítez knocked on Matt’s door, knowing they wouldn’t find their kind neighbor they rarely talked to and instead seeking out “Pete.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” the woman said. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but the last time you were going out, you know how you mentioned those noises from the week before?”

He nodded sheepishly, knowing she was talking about the noise from fixing the dishwasher. “Yeah, sorry again. Don’t worry, though, I don’t plan on opening her back up again.”

“Oh no, it’s no trouble! Never a bad thing that a young man knows his way around a tool. My husband, he used to be so handy- and he still is, mind you- but he has a pacemaker now, and we just had that power surge a few weeks ago. You weren’t here for that, were you?”

“Can’t say I was.” He still knew about the surge, though. That had been the Tinkerer’s doing, not that she needed to know that.

“Well it was terrible. Shelly in 4B- she’s the one with the baby- she said two of her bulbs exploded right overhead. Lucky she was right there. Threw herself over her baby’s playpen right as it happened.”

Frank’s heart pulled at the story, and he had to take a deep breath to avoid storming down to SHIELD and beating the snot out of that madman more than he already had.

Instead, he let it out in a firm sigh and said, “A mother’s love.”

“There’s none greater,” she said. “Oh- a mother’s and a father’s, I mean. A parent’s love. I don’t suppose you and Matthew are looking to adopt?”

Frank chuckled maybe a bit too loud. “No, can’t say we are.” 

It made him uncomfortable to know that assumptions had been made about his and Matt’s relationship. They were correct assumptions built on the fact that they were two men living in a one-bedroom and that Frank wasn’t exactly a stranger around the building, but assumptions meant gossip. Gossip meant people were talking about him, and he couldn’t guarantee his very recognizable face wasn’t being compared to that of the Punisher’s, which had been broadcast on televisions all over New York as recently as that year.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Benítez, did you need something?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you for reminding me! I came over because one of our light switches isn’t working and my husband just ran to the store to get a new cover. I know he’s going to foolishly try to fix the thing himself unless it’s already fixed, and was hoping you’d save me the anxiety.”

He agreed, grabbing the tool kit he thought wouldn’t see much work after the dishwasher and going over to help replace and reconnect the switch.

It was an easy fix, and unfortunately Mrs. Benítez let the rest of the building know how handy Matt’s boyfriend was, which led to Shelly letting them know he was great with kids after he fixed her sink on a whim, and a very tired man named Marcus letting them know he was great with dogs after Frank met his rottie while babysitting the guy’s daughter while he was at a job interview.

That was how Frank became the unofficial mechanic, plumber, babysitter, and dog walker of the building, paid in a mix of “whatever wage he was offered” and food.

It was the second plate of pie shoved into his hands that finally made Matt say, “You realize you can never leave or they’ll hate me forever, right?” with a gorgeous smile on his face.

Frank rolled his eyes, but he stopped feigning the search for safe houses. They knew he was right where he belonged.


	6. First "Time"

Shock of all shocks, Matt Murdock was Catholic.

That meant he went to church, followed God’s teachings, and struggled with his internal compass and morality to what some would call an unhealthy extent.

That didn’t mean he was perfect. He didn’t even fit into what many would refer to as the “core values” of his religion, though he would slam a bible down in front of those many and ask for the exact book and verse where it mentioned he couldn’t be with men and women or be a man at all.

Father Paul would argue that sexuality and identity aside, God _might_ have a bone to pick with Matt’s lack of chastity. That was a point Matt couldn’t as readily argue against, as he did have quite the track record of falling into bed with a long history of partners that could make a serial Casanova blush.

Matt could be a bit of a whore, and he was fine with that. 

Enter Frank.

He wasn’t so sure what made him so patient with Frank. It wasn’t as though he had a history of impatience with partners, but he’d certainly never taken steps this slow before. It was that thought that crossed his mind while he was sitting in Foggy’s office, both of them waiting for their choppy internet to finish downloading these stacks of files for a defendant countering a fraud claim made by their bank.

Another realization pulled through, causing him to pull a face.

“Foggy, I don’t think Frank and I have had a say in any of the major parts of our relationship.”

Foggy, who hadn’t been subject to much discussion on Matt’s relationship with the Punisher, blinked a few times before picking his head up.

“What does that mean? Like, like you two are just going through motions?”

“No! We like being together. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in a relationship, honestly.”

“Oh, so our one year in college meant nothing to you?”

Matt gave a sarcastic, “Ha ha,” before setting aside his laptop. “Foggy, I’m serious here. I’m very happy with Frank, but I just realized that we’re only together the way that we are because of people outside of our relationship. Is that weird?”

“Well, with no context, I’m gonna say ‘no’ but I’m assuming with context-”

“We got together after Kilgrave made him confess to me with mind control.”

“Yeah that’s pretty fucked up.”

“I know, right? Like, all of these intimate moments aren’t dirty because of the things surrounding it, but every time that I think about the circumstances around us getting together, it does feel... weird.”

“Well at least you guys have your first time, if you care about that sort of thing,” Foggy laughed, suppressing the urge to do a small fist pump when he realized that the first set of documents was in. He proceeded to comb through them before realizing Matt hadn’t said anything. “Oh my God, please tell me no one used mind control to make you guys f-”

“No, Foggy, no. It’s just that we haven’t yet,” he said. When Foggy slammed his hand on the desk and leaned back in his chair, a smile fluttered onto Matt’s face. “Wow, thanks for containing your surprise.”

“You’re _Matt Murdock._ You once spent a four day weekend in the sorority up the street from our dorm bouncing from room to room. Forgive me for not wanting to feign shock at the fact that you’ve been dating someone for over a month and haven’t gone all the way.”

“It’s different with Frank,” Matt said. “Things are usually easier than this with him. I guess I’m just used to us falling into situations that get those awkward firsts out of the way.”

“You consider starting a relationship in the first place as ‘awkward?’”

“With Frank? Yes.”

Foggy sighed and began relocating the newly downloaded files on his computer to another folder to read later.

“Well, Mr. Murdock, I think the official term for that is an ‘excuse’ and also ‘bullshit.’”

“Oh really, Mr. Nelson?” Matt asked. “On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that you are putting way too much thought into this. Look, you and Frank are taking this slow, and that probably has less to do with you two getting ‘forced’ into developing your relationship and more to do with you two not realizing the other one is ready to take it to the next step. Like- have you talked about this with _him?_ I mean, I’m not exactly inside the guy’s head- not that I’d want to be.”

Matt shifted his weight in his chair. They’d flirted with the subject, but in the end it was- “Not directly, no.”

“Then I’d start there and try to leave mind control out of the conversation.” A shudder ran up Foggy’s spine.

So Matt went home later than usual, his half of the documents already read out by his text to speech software and noted so that he could have the night to himself.

On the floor before his own, he could smell food. He knew logically it was just the smell of onions, oil, and herbs in a pan, but his stomach only knew that it smelled _good._

Before Frank, he would have scented delicious smells on the way home with the knowledge that it wasn’t for him. There was never a question about whether he’d have dinner waiting for him or if he’d have to scrape something together or order out.

Then Frank had to insist that a peanut butter sandwich was not a proper dinner, and even got a Crockpot so that they could just set up breakfast for when they got back from their late night excursions. The man was a genius and a master in the kitchen, and that was pretty good for Matt, who only learned that month that you had to put something in the pan to get the eggs to not stick.

He opened the door, pleased to know that he was right.

“Hey,” Frank said, trying to act like he hadn’t just been scared by the door opening.

It wasn’t like Frank was jumpy about the apartment. He’d just gotten used to living on his own, and Matt knew that. This was a learning process for both of them, and every relationship was.

Matt was just used to being a quick study.

“Hey yourself,” he said, hanging up his cane and shedding his coat. “Did we have plans for tonight?”

Frank hummed, thinking the question over before laying a meat patty in the pan. “I don’t think so, unless you mean knocking out some scum.”

Matt laughed, pulling off his suit jacket to hang it over the back of the couch. “I wasn’t really hoping for that tonight,” he said as he paced into the kitchen behind Frank, his hands easily finding the broad expanse of his shoulders and finding their way up to his arms. He felt Frank lean back into the touch, though his hands still gripped the pan and tongs. “Not that kind of knocking, anyway.”

The vibration of Frank’s laugh shifted through his t-shirt and into Matt’s hand. “Don’t suppose you could mean ‘knocking boots?’”

“Oh, I would never say something so crass,” he said, threading his fingers down Frank’s bicep.

Frank returned to the meat so that it wouldn’t burn, still rolling with each caress of Matt’s hands. “No, but you’ll imply it.”

“I plead the fifth,” Matt said, more delicious laughter rumbling through Frank’s torso.

“Well,” Frank leaned back so that Matt’s head could lean up onto his shoulder, “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it. Hard not to with you running around in that suit.”

Matt hummed. “This one, or Daredevil’s?”

“Do I have to pick?”

Lips parting, Matt leaned up to steal a kiss, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

He lowered his head and unthreaded his hands from where they were tracing Frank’s hips to open it, a bored Jessica Jones on his doorstep.

“Hey,” she said, walking in, “need your help on a case, are you free tonight?”

A confused noise left Matt’s mouth as he tilted his head in Frank’s direction as he shut the door.

Jessica regarded him for a moment, nodding. “Smells good.” She turned back to Matt. “Look, this client is held on multiple murder charges and if I can’t get solid evidence that she’s not the only murderer suspect, she’s going to take a deal _tomorrow_ that’ll land her in prison for thirty years over a crime she didn’t commit.”

Matt stood up a bit straighter.

“What do you need me for specifically?”

“Your nose,” Jessica said. “And maybe your ears? I dunno- look, her prints and the victims were the only ones on the front door and all of the windows were locked. You have a knack for finding secret rooms, and I know for a fact the victim had another way out of his house. If I can prove that-”

“Then there will be another plausible way the murderer could have escaped,” Matt finished.

“Yep,” Jessica said. “So, are you in?”

Matt nodded. “Can I come in this?”

“Yeah, don’t really need the weird helmet tonight,” she said, marching past him. “Thanks a lot.”

He sighed and told her it was no problem, only stopping to replace his coat and tell Frank, “I’ll be back later.”

The other man understood and wished him good luck.

After uncovering the secret passage out of the house and having to make a mock disguise for himself and help Jessica fight off whoever the people living in the victim’s secret basement were- he came home at two in the morning to find that Frank had already gone to bed, leaving Matt’s dinner in the fridge with a note.

The next day, Matt called and asked if Frank wanted to go out for dinner. Frank was meant to meet him at the office only to have to call ahead.

 _“Hey, can’t make it,”_ Frank said, his breath ragged.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked. “What’s wrong?”

_“Just a little fender bender.”_

“Like a car accident?”

“Who’s in a car accident?” Karen asked as she shuffled down the steps behind him.

“Frank,” Matt said, his hand over the receiver.

_“Is that Karen?”_

“Yeah, it’s me,” she said, joining Matt’s side. “Everything okay?”

_“Yeah, the car’s just a little scratched up. Can’t make it to the office.”_

“Can you send a picture?” Karen asked.

_“Sure thing.”_

A bit of time passed before the picture came through to Karen’s phone, her heart rate flying up and her hand flew to her mouth.

“How bad is it?” Matt asked.

“Well,” she hissed and waved her hand in the air as if trying to figure out how to describe what she was looking at. “You know how vans have like, a really big hood and the front is usually really blocky and straight?”

Matt nodded, knowing Frank’s van pretty well.

“Well,” Karen paused. “His is kind of shaped like a ‘U’ now with um, with one of those posts in front of Walmart in the middle of it?”

_“You’re making it sound worse than it is!”_

“That’s what it looks like, Frank! I don’t know what you want me to tell him!”

“Why are you at Walmart?” Matt asked.

_“I’ll tell you later, but I kinda gotta get out of here before the police show up. Pete Castiglione doesn’t exactly have insurance.”_

“Are you at least going to tell me if you’re hurt?”

_“See you at home, Red- love you.”_

Matt sighed as the call ended, his phone slipping back into his pocket. 

After Karen drove him home, he’d hear from Frank about his sprained ankle and help him dress the bullet hole in his forearm and the gash on his forehead from where his head had met the place where the windshield meets the roof. He’d also learn that Frank had been followed from the apartment, realized it only halfway to the firm, and decided to lose them in a parking lot only for one of them to T-bone him into a spin so that his car would eventually crash into one of the posts. That had led into a fight and Frank blaming himself for getting yet another completely conspicuous black van.

It was hard for Matt to disagree with that entirely, but he soothed his concerns over blowing “Daredevil’s” cover or putting him in danger. Frank knew he could take care of himself, and neither of them were upset about the missed date.

* * *

A week later, both of them bloody and bruised and having narrowly escaped from a fight with half of Matt’s hearing momentarily lost by a gun that one of the opponents had shot right next to his ear and Frank on his last clip, they collapsed into Matt’s window from the fire escape and onto the wood floor.

“I’ve been close to death,” Matt paused to catch his breath, “a few times… but that went so fast.”

“I know,” Frank said.

They were laying so that their heads were right next to each other with their legs in opposite directions. Splayed out like starfish on a beach, they struggled to cool down and recompose themselves.

Frank rolled his head to the side, just having to look at his devil for a second, blank red eyes staring at the ceiling as his human lips parted with each pant. His body was striped in black and red from where the shadows of the window sill cut through the neon lights outside.

Frank swallowed and brought a hand behind Matt’s head, silently coaxing him until he turned his head toward Frank’s.

Matt did as he was asked, the quickening of his breath the only warning Frank got before he too was being pulled across the floor into a messy, upside-down kiss.

They didn’t seem to care whether or not they really fit like this, moving together anyway until Matt let out a soft, keening noise and pulled himself onto his arms to curl his legs under himself so that he could lean over Frank and press him into the floor.

“We’re so tired,” Matt said and went back in for another kiss.

Frank pushed him back by the collar bone and asked, “Are we doing this?”

Matt nodded, his lips still parted when he went back down to finish what he’d started.

Frank pushed him again, slower this time so that he could sit up with him. Then they were standing, Frank’s blunt fingertips scrambling to get Matt’s helmet off. It bounced off of the floor as they shuffled toward the bedroom, Frank’s fingers coiling through the newly-exposed hair tightly when Matt leaned down to bite his neck above the kevlar vest.

At hearing Frank’s choked moan, Matt grinned around the flesh in his mouth and leaned him up against the nearest wall to pull one of Frank’s legs onto his hip. Frank kept it there as Matt palmed at his sides and hurriedly undid the clasps and straps keeping the vest in place.

Armor was pulled off as well, leaving him to pull back and raise his arms when the devil suit was pulled from his torso.

He hissed when the material caught on a scrape along the back of his neck- just a part where the helmet had pinched his skin.

“Shit, you okay?”

“Shut up,” Matt said, claiming another kiss, and Frank was happy to do just that.

They turned into the bedroom.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Matt found himself being crowded against it. It wasn’t the same as being shoved there, Frank’s grip too gentle before he let go completely. He was weighed down by his reverence for Matt, its cumbrance enough to bring him to his knees. His large hands sat at the top of Matt’s thighs and traced the roundness of where his legs met his pelvis until Matt gave him permission in the form of a nod. Only then did Frank pull open the button of his slacks and shimmy them down. Matt helped, pulling his leg free only for Frank to pull his hips hips forward with a hand on his ass. 

He started with his teeth gently tracing the edges of his clit, Matt sucking in a deep breath as his stomach sank and warmed with each motion of Frank’s jaw. The light bites only stopped when he opened his mouth further to properly suck on the topmost area of the hood. His right hand still on Matt’s ass, Frank slid his left hand up the opposite side of his body starting from the middle of his thigh and ending once he reached his hip. There he rested his hand for a moment while he lapped at his sex. Whether Frank did this to ground Matt or himself he didn’t know.

Small circles were traced along the edges of Matt’s abs the hand worked further under his shirt and Matt’s own hands finally peeled away from the door to instead find Frank’s shoulder and a handful of his too-short hair.

When Frank’s hand moved to actually touch his genitals, though, he had to pull him back with a hiss.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked. “Do you not like people- ah-”

“No no, hand jobs are fine,” Matt said with a laugh. “Just not while you have gunshot residue all over your hands.

Frank rolled his eyes and stood back up to pull Matt away from the door into an embrace.

“You aren’t exactly the pinnacle of cleanliness yourself, right now.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, spinning Frank around and dumping him on the bed, “but I wear gloves.”

He pulled Frank’s pants down, leaving him in the form-fitting black shirt and exposing his half-hard cock to the room.

“I have been waiting so long for this,” Matt said, one hand on the bed as he stared right past Frank. His other hand found the inside of his thigh, trailing up to stroke from base to tip and back down before taking the length into a loose fist.

Frank moaned at the contact, his hips canting upwards before Matt’s thigh slid over his own. Frank sat up to adjust himself with his other leg over Matt’s as they both sat in the middle of the bed. Foreheads pressed together, they began to rock together with Matt’s hand still on his dick and the other wrapped around his shoulder.

Rather than just sit there with his hands having been banned from below the belt, Frank instead worked them over Matt’s torso. He watched as Matt gasped and leaned into the circular motions along his ribs and arched his back when Frank’s hands moved along his back.

He was left to feel rather than see all of these reactions when his eyes slipped shut and he pressed their mouths together again.

Matt picked his hips up a bit straddling Frank’s thigh and then leaning over him to angle their bodies so that his dick was between Matt’s legs without fully entering him. Then Matt’s hand came away entirely so that he could just hold Frank close to him as he slid his hips along Frank’s cock.

He bit his lip to contain the groan of his own dick finally receiving stimulation, already wet from Frank’s administrations by the door.

When Frank pulled his hips down and then back up, the tip of his dick neared Matt’s opening and he was stopped by a hand against his shoulder.

“Not inside,” Matt said, a smile still present to show that he was fine with anything else.

“Not trying to get in,” Frank assured him, his fingers curling around Matt’s hips. “Just trying to get…”

He trailed off, no explanation needed when the hood of his cock brushed backwards over Matt’s dick. The first time, Matt let out a low moan that mixed with Frank’s grunt, the next time, he breathed a bit faster, inhaling and exhaling with the beat of their thrusts. They found a rhythm, lips sinking back together, and Frank could tell from the way Matt’s legs tightened the first time he’d already cum once.

He trailed his hands down Matt’s ribs again, finding the scars he familiarized himself with on quieter nights in their bed.

Their moments in the early morning laying in their bed in their apartment, mapping out the trails left on Matt’s body. He knew Matt had done the same, his fingers easily finding the spot behind his ear that made him melt when he was kissed or touched there.

He found the hand Matt was using to stabilize himself against the mattress, tracing up his under arm and down his side while his other hand brought the one Matt was holding the back of his head with to instead lay with his in the pillow above them.

Then Frank encouraged Matt to lay down on top of him, his own body flat against the mattress while Matt angled his ass into the air to continue rubbing them off. Matt panted by his ear while Frank tried to focus on every sensation, his hand coiled around Matt’s waist while watching the beautiful waves of Matt’s body work on top of him.

He pulled his leg up and rotated them a bit to the side, listening to Matt’s breath hitch and finally they both came, spinning back down to clarity and focus as Matt sank down beside him.

They caught their breaths, this time laying entangled with one another. There was a brief moment the piece was shattered only so that they could wrestle the blanket out from under them.

Matt groaned. “I’ll get a towel.”

“No need for a towel,” Frank said.

“I love you, but I’m not laying in,” he gestured to the stickiness down his and Franks torsos, “in this.”

“In jizz?” He laughed when Matt swatted him and pulled him back down to bed. “We have to wash your expensive-ass sheets tomorrow anyway.” He pulled his remaining shirt off and quickly wiped them both down before tossing the shirt over the side of the bed with his pants.

“We have to shower, too,” Matt said, though his eyes were slipping closed as he pulled Frank against him and held him tightly.

Frank, turned away from Matt, murmured in agreement, a cat-like grin spread across his face as he curled into his pillow.

“G’night, Red.”

“Good night, Frank.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ever just write over 15,000 words of Fratt fanfiction in one day because-


End file.
